Fighter
by licensedtobuild
Summary: Santana is a member of a Lima Heights gang, and takes quite the hit. One-shot future-fic/AU.


**Response to this picture: ./tumblr_lnf5xeDAu71qjb5sbo1_**

"Geez, I look like shit," Santana muttered, staring into her own brown eyes in her bathroom mirror. She had no idea what to tell Brittany this time; she had used up all the standard stories. being "mugged," "assaulted in the subway," and "jumped in the park," and she wasn't sure how much more Brittany would believe. Brittany thought that Santana worked the night shift at the local factory; what she didn't know was that Santana had been effectively drafted into a gang of street fighters known as Satan's G-String. Santana hated the name, but kept coming back for more, knowing that the work she was doing actually meant something to her shithole of a hometown.

Instead of getting minimum wage for some menial production line work, Santana spent her nights patrolling the streets of Lima Heights Adjacent. About once a week, Santana would catch up to some dirtbag trying to mug or assault someone. Santana, being a proficient kickboxer and a practitioner of capoeira since her days at Ohio State, was usually able to take down the asshole without too much personal injury. On special occasions, she would drag the unconscious bad guy down to the Lima Heights police department and tape him to the flagpole with a note, reading, "Merry Fucking Christmas. Love, Satan."

Last night, things had gotten a little out of hand. Santana had been walking down Ponderosa Avenue on patrol when she saw a man attempting to beat and rape a woman in an alleyway. Without thinking, Santana sprinted down the alley and drove her shoulder into the man's ribcage, knocking him off the woman. She managed to land a few solid punches before the man pounded his fist into her eye. Santana staggered backwards, wiping the blood from her face and shaking off the punch before running at the man again. She managed to kick him in the ribs but he grabbed her foot and flung her to the ground, causing her to scrape her shoulder on the pavement. Before she knew it, the man was on top of her, and had pulled out a knife. Santana flung him off of her and leapt upright, her bloody fists at the ready. He slashed at her face twice, but she raised her arms in defense. The third time that he slashed her, she leapt to the side before elbowing him as hard as she could in the back. He crumpled to the ground and rolled over to see her standing over him.

"Fuck off," she snarled before kicking him in the face. She was starting to get lightheaded from the blood loss, so she dragged the unconscious and bloody man to the street and left him by a street lamp, the phrase "**DOUCHEBAG - SG**" scrawled in Sharpie on his face.

"Thank you!" the woman said loudly, but Santana was already staggering down the street toward Lima Central and the apartment she shared with Brittany.

The sun was just beginning to rise by the time Santana got home. Brittany was still asleep, to Santana's relief, so she snuck into the bathroom to clean herself up. She turned on the water to dampen one of the rags, and rubbed it gently over her right arm to clean the blood off it. The cut was pretty deep, and Santana pressed a gauze pad against it, wincing in pain. She grabbed an ACE bandage roll from the cupboard and wrapped it around her arm gingerly, tucking the end in tight enough that it would stay in place.

"Santi?" A sleepy voice asked.

"It's okay, Britt. Go back to sleep," Santana croaked.

"Santi, are you… did someone attack you again?" Brittany appeared over Santana's shoulder, staring in horror at their reflections. "Jesus, Santi!" She turned Santana around and dabbed at her face and eye with the cloth. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I fought him off. He ended up worse than me." Santana smiled gingerly; she could feel her eye starting to swell shut already. Brittany made swift work of doctoring Santana up, wrapping bandages around her bleeding knuckles and wiping the blood from her face.

"Jesus, Santi," Brittany murmured. "We really should move somewhere else. I can't deal with you getting jumped every time you come home from work!"

"It's okay, angel. Really, it is. I told you already: he ended up far worse than me." Santana stared down at the floor, feeling her stomach begin to burn with guilt. She hated lying to Brittany, but it was the only way to keep her safe. "Thank you." She squeezed Brittany's hand gently and kissed her cheek.

"Come on. Let's get you out of that bloody tank top." Santana lifted her arms gingerly and Brittany slipped the grey tank top off over her head, tossing it to the floor. "Geez, he really did a number on you." She pulled a large black t-shirt from the closet and slipped it over Santana's outstretched arms.

"I'm okay," she whispered, and leaned back in the bed. "Come on, go back to sleep. I'll be alright."


End file.
